Once, I Was Human
by JayEmEl
Summary: The jealousy of one powerful man affected them both. They were monsters now, like him - sentenced to a life devoid of love, left to die alone. Except Adam never planned for Yang and Blake to meet. And he certainly never expected them to thwart his curse. (Cover drawn by me.)
1. Trapped

**You know how you sometimes find artists on the internet drawing Blake and Yang as a cat and dragon, respectively? **

**WELL, CONGRATS, I'VE BEEN INSPIRED. **

**This story is not edited by Cowjump. It will be several short chapters long, and it is purely me, uncut. **

**NOW SUFFER WITH ME.**

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It was a beautiful day, perfect for a visit to the –

_Never mind._

If Yang was beginning to think up terrible, excruciating ways of starting a story, she was already screwed. She didn't even _like_ reading. Especially not fiction – not anymore, anyway. Not after this recent, crazy, and incredibly distressing turn her life had taken.

The problem, though, was that she was so thoroughly stuck and so thoroughly hurt – and had been so for the past…what? Two days now? – that her mind had become desperate to at least find a way to entertain itself. Whatever happened, she couldn't let herself succumb to hopelessness. The last thing she needed was a curious Grimm or two coming along to check out the free dinner.

So, _yeah_, the sky was blue, the grass was green, and the sun was hot – the kind of weather that would have been awesome for all kinds of things. Especially the beach.

_Ugh_. Despite Yang's best attempts to think of literally anything else, her thoughts returned to her surroundings and situation. This was not the beach at all. It was the anus of a freaking cliff. With murder-y, crumbling rocks and vultures flying in circles overhead, an omen to Yang's impending doom if she ever saw one.

She could have dealt with just a few broken bones. The wounds hurt something awful, sure, and after two days there was a different kind of marrow-deep soreness settling in, but at least Yang could have _moved_. She could have figured something out to recover, gotten on with this new existence, and found a way to make everything go back to normal.

But, no. Yang was also trapped. There was a huge boulder on her right arm, keeping it pinned to the ground and forcing her body to stay angled awkwardly. She supposed her bone there was at least fractured. Her hand felt numb.

She couldn't use her feet or legs to provide her with any leverage. They were bound together at the calves thanks to a chain bola, and they were kind of under her body sideways. And then, of course, there were her wings – big, leathery, useless things that they were. One of those was broken, too, as she had crash landed on it very wrong on her way down the cliff.

Yang was in the middle of some rocky canyon in Northeast Nowhere, hurt, stuck, and alone, and if she didn't die from all of the many different things that could kill her right now, then the poachers who had thrown the bola in the first place would eventually find her and…well, that would probably be the end for Yang, too.

And here she was, trying to think happy or funny thoughts through the agony. Her breathing was a little uneven, broad chest heaving occasionally, and her serpent-like tail whipped out behind her in frustration.

Only three weeks ago, had someone told Yang that her boyfriend was a magical lunatic and that he would turn her into dragon in a fit of raging jealousy, and then that she would be forced to flee society because of this transformation, she would have laughed in their face. Because that was _stupid_, right? Dust was a thing, but magic? Uh-huh. And chickens had teeth, too, now, she supposed.

Yang had been compared to a dragon a few times before – because of her semblance and how it made her light up with gold fire at full power, or maybe it was also how her eyes turned red when she was angry. But this new reality was on a whole other level of bonkers.

_Actually, it's probably just my name_.

The fact that the little detail of Xiao Long had come to her last made Yang wonder if she was starting to become delusional. She hadn't been able to eat or drink, either, in the past two days, after all. She was weakening.

Oh, Yang had grieved, alright. And during that first week, she had spent her time being terrified and panicking over all the consequences of her new appearance. Adam had disappeared, leaving her to fend for herself and making it impossible for her to beg him to turn her back. She couldn't communicate with anyone anymore, anyway. Nobody understood the growls and roars. In fact, people were deathly afraid of her.

It wasn't like she was a very _big_ dragon. Yang didn't think so, anyway. Her body might have been about the size of an elephant…and about three times as long. It was her wings that were so much larger and unwieldy.

But that didn't matter, it seemed. She looked like a monster come to life from a fairy-tale, and when even her very own little sister, Ruby, failed to recognize her and proceeded to fight her away from their dad's cottage on Patch, Yang had truly given up on trying to find an ally. And so, upset and scared, she took to the wilderness.

The second week had been all about figuring out how to survive on her own like this…and learning very quickly to stay away from the people that lived out here. Bandits. Poachers. She could fight off the Grimm that liked to flock to her fairly easily, so that was one advantage of this beastly body, but she didn't know how to handle entire communities who seemed attracted to the idea of killing her for meat, sport, or money. She didn't want to hurt anyone, no matter their intentions.

…Which brought her to the other matter she had a lot of difficulty with, at first. Food. Her appetite was bigger and fiercer, and her reptilian stomach did not like vegetation. Yang had never gone hunting before as a human – she just couldn't imagine ending a poor, cute animal's life just to taste different, wild meat.

Unfortunately, Yang did not want to die. And Yang had to eat. She had no choice. She had started off small – while drinking from a stream, she had spotted fish swimming in the rushing water, and had reluctantly attempted the task of catching one. She didn't use her claws or tail or angular face, though – Yang wasn't willing to act more like a monster than she needed to. Instead, she had found a sturdy branch and sharpened the end into a point. And then she had set about spearing the water.

It was awkward and frustrating, but when she finally did catch one, Yang had watched the fish flop for a moment, both ravenous and disgusted at the sight. Did she really want to eat this thing still alive and raw? Her stomach would probably be fine with it, but her mind definitely was not.

And then it occurred to her – for the hundredth and one time – that she was a _dragon_ now. Maybe she could, like, _breathe fire_? Yang had to be careful, though – the last thing she wanted was to set the forest aflame. So, she positioned herself over the stream, wriggling fish in front of her snout, and focused. She just wanted a little jet of fire. Just a little one.

But Yang had no idea how this worked. Would there be actual fire coming straight out of her lungs or belly? That seemed…dangerous to her own organs. And impossible. If she remembered well from the movies she had watched, didn't dragons have glands in their jaw somewhere that secreted a highly flammable toxin? And that this toxin was what caught on fire when they breathed out hot air forcefully?

Yang decided that must be it. She had to focus on secreting that toxin.

Two minutes later, lo and behold, Yang had a _very_ charred fish on her stick. So charred, in fact, that it was practically ash in her mouth when she ate it. It tasted nothing like a well-cooked fish, but Yang still found a certain satisfaction in figuring out how part of her dragon anatomy functioned. This encouraged her to catch a few more, and although she burned all of them as well, they each were a little more edible than the last. Practice would make perfect.

Food sounded like such a marvelous luxury right now – burned or not. Her stomach rumbled and squeezed, and her wincing gaze wandered to her pinned, crushed arm. She swallowed hard. If it came down to it, would she be willing to…cut it off? Would she become that desperate? Was it possible that the longer Yang stayed in this form, the less human she became?

Dread settled in Yang's gut, heavy and cold. What had Adam _done_ to her?

A sudden noise brought Yang out of her own head. She craned her neck around, trying to get a glimpse of what it could possibly be. Her heart was thumping harder in her chest. Yang did not want to die.

As fate would have it, though, _death _seemed very much on her agenda within the next few minutes. A long, chilling howl resonated through the trees, followed by aggressive and excited yapping, and then the sound of dozens of paws running through the underbrush, twigs snapping and bushes rustling.

Yang's eyes widened, panic starting to fill her chest as she glanced from left to right, trying to pinpoint exactly where they were coming from. It was a pack of Beowolves, no doubt about that. They would be smaller than her, but Yang could barely move, let alone defend herself. She hadn't been able to figure out how to use her aura in this form yet, and that was part of the reason why she was in such a dire state to begin with.

_God, what am I going to do?_

Yang swiveled her head as far as she could, searching, and that's when she saw them. They erupted from the trees like oversized rabid dogs, eyes glowing like iron bathing in fire – red and scorching with danger. The Alpha was almost as big as she was, heavy, pointy bone plates on its back and legs. It was an experienced Grimm. And the fact that it was charging at her, its pack close behind, without checking for any other signs of life meant Yang really was neck deep in trouble.

She wished the poachers had found her first. At least her death would have been fairly quick. Now she was going to be forced to watch and feel herself get eaten piece by piece until she fainted or died from blood loss.

Yang was horrified.

In the next moment, the Beowolves were upon her. Using what little fighting strength she had left, Yang whipped her tail at them, a blood-curdling, inhuman screech leaving her jaws as the movement exacerbated her wounds. She knocked most of them away with that strike, a few hitting the rocks hard, but the Alpha dodged and jumped, landing squarely on her back…and partly on her good wing. It dug its claws into her thick, scaly skin, saliva dribbling from its maw, and Yang hissed, struggling. She might not have learned how to fly yet, but she did have some control over her new limbs. Yang suddenly unfurled her wing with enough force that the Alpha rocketed off, joining its recovering pack.

But it landed on its feet and came rushing right back towards her, growling angrily.

Yang's body heaved with the effort it took to cover what she could of herself with her wing. She didn't have anymore energy to fight, nor did she have the means to, anyway. Had she been suicidal, she would have left herself open for the Beowolves to feast – it would have been quicker that way, after all. But Yang was still hanging on to life, and even if this was going to be the most pain she would ever be in for the last moments of it, she wouldn't give up.

She felt them, one after the other, tackling her body, marking her with wide incisions and deep bites, and Yang roared at the agony, writhing and desperately trying to free her legs from the chain bola. It was no use. Yang was going to die.

And her family would never know what happened.

Among her screams, Yang wept, too.

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**So, if you think ****bestiality is weird, this story might not be for you (?). Just thought I should maybe put that out there. Maybe. _I_ think bestiality is weird. Why am I writing this?**

**But for real, I don't know how far I'm gonna go with...that. We'll see what happens. It's still supposed to be a nice Yang and Blake romance.**

**...Don't quote me on that.**


	2. Black the Beast

**WHO NOMINATED ME ON TUMBLR AS BEST WRITER FOR_ LGBT-RWBY-PRIDE-AWARDS_? WHOEVER YOU ARE, ADFSDGDFHDFHGF!**

**Here, this chapter is dedicated to you, Unknown-But-Dear-And-Lovely-Reader. Thank you so much!**

**Enjoy!**

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Not ten seconds later, the Beowolves' behaviors changed. Something in the air seemed to shift, too – something...silent. The light of the sun winked out briefly, as if eclipsed, and the Alpha let out a low growl while the others hesitated in their assault. There was a muted _whoosh_, and then one of them yelped as its grip on Yang disappeared altogether. She heard it give its last, dying cry as it crashed further off.

This seemed to send the Beowolves into chaos. Barking while razor claws tore into Yang's skin as they scrambled off, the focus of their aggressiveness became this other unknown target.

Yang dared to lift her wing away from her face, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on. She saw the remaining Grimm howling and yapping savagely as they fought back against whatever force was attacking...but they were failing. A dark blur zipped through them (or was that several dark blurs?), leaving smoking corpses in its wake, and Yang watched, fascinated, when mere moments later, only the Alpha remained standing.

It was so tempting to strike at it with her tail again – it was just in her reach to do so, after all – but instead she found herself following its gaze skywards, where they saw this black beast descend as if from shadows, a midnight comet in the light of day hurtling straight for its mark. The Alpha centered itself, prepared, feet digging into the earth beneath, but the newcomer had too much momentum. It barreled into the Grimm, and they rolled over each other several times, both monsters about equal in size, raising a storm of dust as they hissed and screeched. Limbs flailed in search of gaining advantage over the other – Yang saw feathered wings flapping erratically and gleaming talons – and there was a blood-curdling roar that sounded very much like an infuriated, large, wild cat.

And then there was a loud, resounding _crack_, followed by a strangled whimper, and then…nothing.

Yang did her best to get a clear view of the situation, but the struggle had happened at the periphery of her vision and she couldn't adjust herself enough to see more. The cloud of dust was still settling, and there was still a distinct lack of movement. The presence of Grimm always silenced the calm chatter of nature, and the quiet that existed now was almost eerie.

Yang huffed, a puff of smoke leaving her nostrils. Had the two creatures mutually killed each other? She rested her head on the ground again, closing her eyes in exhaustion. Whatever the case, she was grateful for the intervention, however unexpected. A lot. Her circumstances might not have really improved, but at least she wasn't going to die too prematurely.

Why had that black thing attacked the Grimm, anyway? Shouldn't it have been scared? Regular animals always feared the Grimm, no exceptions. But that begged another question – what even _was _that beast?

It probably didn't matter much now. If it was dead, that was just another unfortunate event to have happened recently.

Bothered, Yang opened her eyes, and her gaze immediately caught the dark thing up on the boulder crushing her arm. She hissed, startled, and would've jumped had she not been stuck. Pain shot through her limbs.

How had it been so _noiseless_?

As her heartbeat slowed, Yang fixed her regard on the creature and observed it. It watched her in turn with blazing golden irises, vertical slits of bottomless black slicing through the middles. For a moment, Yang could see nothing else except that incredibly intense, intelligent stare. It was as if…as if, when it looked at her, it _saw _something looking back – _recognition_.

But then the creature blinked, slow, and Yang was able to start taking in the rest of it, spell broken. It had the face of a large cat, but not any large cat Yang knew – sort of a mix between a cheetah and a tiger, with angular, sharp features but fluffiness around the sides. Its fur was shiny and a strange, deep, dark mauve – but that got even weirder because said fur turned into jet black feathers around the ears that continued down its chest and back. The front legs were a downy of feathers and fur, ending in paws that were both feline and avian at once. Those talons were wicked.

Most noticeably, unlike any cat Yang possibly knew, this one had wings. They were currently folded neatly against its back, but they were big and full of sharp angles, designed for speed and accuracy, giving the creature an elegant, imposing edge. Its tail idly flipped behind it as it sat back on its hunches, and Yang saw that it, too, was covered in feathers along the sides. Only the predator's rear end and back feet and paws were completely feline.

_This is one weird griffin_.

She had never seen anything like it – not even in fiction. It _could _have been a griffin of sorts, but if that were the case, then it _shouldn't exist_.

At this thought, Yang rolled her eyes at herself. She had been turned into a dragon by magic – what was so bizarre about the appearance of this creature now? It had saved her life, and it wasn't attacking her, so, if anything, Yang should just roll with what fate was throwing at her these days and give thanks. It wasn't like there was much to be grateful for to begin with, and this was kind of a miracle.

She met its disturbingly smart stare again. What was it doing, just sitting there? Yang narrowed her eyes. _Can you understand me?_

Naturally, there was no response. Yang was clearly going crazy at this point, thinking she could talk to some random beast like that. Her wounds were bleeding – maybe none of this was even real and Yang was hallucinating.

The winged cat tilted its head to the side a bit, paused, and then jumped down to the ground with ease and grace and _silence_. It must have been light on its feet – it had to be. But it was as if it were made of shadow, with the way it glided and moved. Only the smoldering, hypnotic glow of its eyes seemed truly tangible.

Yang watched it, wary, as it circled her, its gaze flickering across her body as if trying to figure something out. Maybe it had killed those Grimm because it wanted to eat her for lunch instead. Maybe the thought of 'dragon' on the menu had been so appealing to it that it gone through the extra effort to get what it wanted.

Maybe Yang should have been a lot more afraid. It wasn't that much smaller than she was – only her wings still dwarfed it – and if it had taken out a pack of Grimm that easily, then it could probably handle a wounded dragon no problem.

The creature suddenly hopped onto Yang's body. She tensed and made an attempt at batting at it with her free clawed hand, but it dodged and gave her this _look_ of such disapproval that Yang was once again struck into wondering if its mind was like hers.

_Okay, chill. I just don't want you to eat me_.

This time, it stared at her, staying very still. Its ears flicked backwards. And then it…shook its head? Yang didn't know if dragons could experience headaches, but she seemed to be developing one right now. The list of things wrong with her just kept growing, it seemed.

Could the cat actually understand her, or could it not?

Instead of providing a clear answer, though, it lowered its head to a laceration on her shoulder and calmly started licking it.

Yang twitched and almost swiped her claws at it again. What the heck was it doing?! Was it going to eat her, after all, and was just tasting its meal beforehand? A growl formed in Yang's throat, but something about how undisturbed the cat was made her hesitate. It wasn't greedily lapping up all the blood it could find. No, it was being careful and deliberate. And, more than that, there was a strange, cool tingling happening where her wound was as the cat continued to lick. Yang tried to get a better look. Was that tongue…glowing faintly purple?

_Aura?_

The cat moved on to another wound, and Yang realized the cut on her shoulder was now mostly healed. She stared at the predator in shock. That was _definitely _a sign of aura. And if this beast had aura, then that meant it had a _soul_, and if it had a soul, then it had _conscious_ thoughts and feelings – just like Yang. It was aware of itself and knew what it was doing, just like Yang, and for all intents and purposes, it probably recognized that Yang was like _it_, too.

And maybe that was why it was helping.

It was just incredibly hard to tell if they could actually communicate. She hoped to God they could – Yang _needed _to socialize, needed the companionship, needed validation that she hadn't just lost her mind. She hated being alone like this.

And, more importantly, this also meant she might not die, after all. That was an obvious bonus.

The cat continued to lick Yang's wounds one at a time, healing them, and the golden girl watched searching for ideas. She squinted. _I'm Yang_.

The cat paused. Its ears flickered. It went back to tending to a cut on her good wing.

_My name is Yang_, she persisted, sensing that _something _must have been getting through to it. _Thank you for saving me_.

Maybe it was because Yang had been focusing especially hard on communicating with it, but this time the predator stopped and looked at her – like, _really _looked at her. Those pools of molten gold bored into her and smoldered with emotions Yang couldn't quite place, maybe as if searching for information deep within her own soul. And, suddenly, there was an inkling at the edges of Yang's mind, a trickle of a constantly morphing image – from a birds-eye view, she saw herself in her dragon form in crisp, clear detail, stuck on the ground as she attempted to fight off the Grimm charging at her. With this strange and distant vision came a feeling, a question, a wandering wondering that had no words to specify it.

Yang stared back. She blinked, uncertain that she understood what was happening. She pointed in the dark and gave it a shot anyway. _Yes. That's me. I'm Yang._

It was unsettling, how the creature observed her with such silent intensity – and it was just _standing _on top of her as if that were perfectly normal.

_Who are you_? Yang tried.

There was another question. It was slow to take shape, hesitant, as if the cat didn't know what it was doing, either. In her mind, Yang saw that feline face reflected off a pool of water, a pond somewhere in the forest. With it came a mix of frustration and confusion.

Was this how the beast communicated? Images and feelings?

_Yes, that's you. Who are you?_

But something about Yang's question suddenly made the cat growl and retract, ears flattening against its skull. Nothing else murmured into Yang's head – it was deafening silence again, a cold, hard wall, and those once calm golden irises she had taken a certain liking to were now furious and wild. For the first time, Yang _did_ experience fear – because there no longer seemed to be a soul to recognize inhabiting this monster. There was just a feral beast, a predatory carnivore, and it could very well kill her, after all.

Yang's heart rate accelerated, eyes widening, while the cat shook its head and hissed. Its talons dug into her scales slightly, and then it took off into the sky with one powerful leap and beat of its wings. The blonde watched it anxiously as it circled her, then chased off the vultures, and before Yang could truly process it, the cat was _gone_.

And Yang was once again left alone, heart pounding, wondering what the heck that had been all about and horribly disappointed that the one thing she had finally felt a real connection to after three weeks of being on her own had _left_ her – in an inexplicable fit of rage, no less.

Yang was right back to square one.

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**Just throwing some angst in there - because I'm me and I can't help myself from hurting the characters I love. ChArActEr dEvElOpmEntttttt. Oops.**

**It's really not gonna reach _Forlorn_ and _Contrecoeur_ levels, though. Rest assured. See ya in the next chapter!**


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